Rewritten
by gothicbutterfly95
Summary: Accidents of Nature: Jean returns to Camp Courage in 1971, but despite everything, Sara can't leave her mind. For elledottore. Possible confrontational content.


**I'm doing a writing degree at university, and in one of my classes this semester we had a fanfiction week! We had to bring in a book we loved and write a fanfic on it. I brought in _Accidents of Nature_ by Harriet McBryde Johnson, which I actually discovered thanks to elledottore's amazing _WICKED_ fic _We're Not at Camp Courage_ _Anymore_. ****I decided to polish it up and extend it, and while I don't know if I can do Johnson justice, I'm happy with this.**

 **For elledottore: AoN changed my view on disabilities. Because of you, I am proud to call myself a Crip. I have been changed for good.**

* * *

Willie sits by my side at dinner. After stuffing his misshapen face with three times the amount of food the rest of us campers eat, he takes it upon himself to feed me. I know why he's doing it; to keep his mind off her.

We both feel her absence even though nothing seems amiss.

I've yet to find out who's in my cabin this year but I've already seen everyone from last year. Margie, Peggy Jo, Yvonne, Denise, Dolly and Mary. The cabin known for the 'Most Inappropriate Skit' is back.

And yet we're not.

The one person who made this place what it was, for better or worse is missing. Without Sara and her constant talk of philosophy and Marxism, without her impossible dreaming, it feels empty.

"I miss her too."

Willie startles me. There was a time when his face did that. Now it's just his voice.

"It doe-sn't fe-el li-ke Camp with-out her."

He nods.

I told them why she isn't here; just like she asked me to. It felt weird, returning to camp without her, but I knew that I owed it to Willie and Margie and everyone, but above all Sara that I did come back.

It was the least I could do for my best friend.

* * *

Sara was right; no matter how many times you see someone having a seizure it's still horrifying to watch.

A wave of déjà-vu sweeps over me as I take in the scene. Even the dim lighting doesn't shake the eerie similarity to my first night at camp last year, or the awful scene unfolding in front of me.

The flailing body is our cabin's newest member, first-time camper Gemma. She hasn't fallen out of her cot, but Carole and Sue are huddled around, ready to help her if she does.

I look away for a moment and catch a glimpse of Denise, lying silent and still in her cot on the other side of the cabin. I wonder if she has ever seen a seizure before. Given the look of terror on her face I don't think so.

But terror isn't the only emotion on her face; she looks almost…regretful. She is normally the flailing body; the dancing skeleton.

I wonder if she feels guilty.

* * *

Carole wheels me across the path. The smell of the lake fills my lungs. My casters rattle as my chair is parked.

"You need anything?" she asks me.

"No tha-nk yo-u," I reply.

She leaves me alone for now. We will be swimming soon.

"Hello."

A voice startles me. I look over. It's the quad with the beautiful baritone voice. I remember Willie and Sara talking about him last year. 'The only real talent in the whole camp' they said. He definitely delivered; he won the talent show last year by far.

But of course, everyone's a winner at Camp Courage.

"Hi," I say.

"I'm Freddie," he tells me.

"Jean."

I stick my arm out straight; as straight as I can anyway. He does the same but we still can't shake hands.

"Your skit was uh...interesting," he adds absently. I cringe and smile at the same time, so my face probably looks even more spastic than it usually does. I am proud of my part in the skit, but it still leaves me feeling a little icky, if only because of what it meant for Sara.

"Hey. Where's your friend?" he asks. "I haven't seen her around."

There it is. He doesn't say her name. He probably doesn't know her. Not like I did.

But it doesn't matter. Sara's absence still stings.

"Sh-e didn't co-me bac-k" I say. I don't elaborate like I did for Willie and Margie and the others last night. It's too painful to say it all again.

I wonder how she's going. The trip to London. Norm school. I sent her a couple of letters, but she didn't reply.

"Well I guess you're in charge of the skit this year," Freddie says.

I nod. "W-what abo-ut you?"

He smiles. I grin back my silly, spazzo grin. Ever since last year I've felt better about my spaz attacks, but I'm still not completely comfortable with them. But here at Camp Courage I don't worry at all.

" _Camelot_ ," he answers.

* * *

Willie and I repeat our routine at dinner time. I have a feeling this will continue for the next week.

"Can I sit here?"

It's Gemma. She's resting her plate on her left wrist and gripping it tightly with her right hand to keep it from falling.

"Of course," Willie answers.

I watch as she takes in Willie; Sara's almost-beautiful Willie. She seems startled, then uncomfortable, but eventually her face turns blank and she sits down without saying a word.

"Are y-ou alr-ight?" I ask. I haven't seen her since we left the cabin this morning. I didn't know she was an epileptic. She introduced herself as having CP; hemiplegia, but at a glance she looked almost normal. Like a walkie-talkie.

I wonder if she's ever been told she 'fits right in.'

"Yeah," she answers. "It happens when I get really tired. Or excited."

"I thou-ght you h-ad CP."

"I do," she nods. "But a lot of people with CP have epilepsy. Something nobody thought I needed to know until I actually started having seizures."

She doesn't seem embarrassed about talking about her disabilities. Maybe it's because we're all at camp, but I get the feeling I'm not the only person who has heard this story.

"I also have mild autism," she adds.

My eyes widen. CP, epilepsy and autism. For the most part she looks like a Norm. Now I can see why she's here at camp.

I'm the one in the wheelchair, and yet, for a moment, my life seems easy compared to hers. I've witnessed seizures, but I've never had one before. And while I don't have the best record when it comes to friendship, I know what to do and what not to do.

My life has been far from easy and I only have one disability.

Despite myself, I ask: "Ho-w do yo-u do i-t?"

She gives me a look that tells me she had similar thoughts, but her reply makes perfect sense.

"I don't know any different."

* * *

Willie, Gemma and I talk for a long time. She seems nice; and like me, Camp Courage is her first experience with Crips. I could see her as a friend. Freddie too.

I've had a lot of friends throughout my life.

But only one that mattered.

My letters tried to tell her what she meant to me, how amazing and revolutionary she was. But I don't know if I succeeded. After a year, I've given up on her responding.

She harboured a little impossible dream last year; and it got her kicked out of camp. I hope she takes it to bigger places. The world needs Sara Buchanan's delusions of grandeur.

She asked if we could do a crazy, inappropriate scheme in her honour.

But like the dream, it's impossible.

I briefly thought about refusing to go swimming today. But I succumbed because floating feels so wonderful, and camp is the only place I get to do it.

I couldn't even do that. I can't imagine doing anything bigger without her.

The courage has left Camp Courage. Sara took it with her.

Freddie can sing Lerner and Loewe, Margie will still do her hospital corners, Dolly's still babbling; her novella unfinished and her love of Johnny Carson unending. Willie's still the ugliest guy in the two Carolinas and the thirteen original states.

But Sara was the core. Without her it means nothing. Her presence is everywhere even though she isn't. I don't feel like Spazzo without her, even though nothing much has changed here.

I'm the one that's changed. Even since leaving this place last year.

Knowing her changed me.

Because I knew her, I have been changed for good.

* * *

 **Yes I called the quad Freddie because of the song he sang and he is pretty much there to indulge my love for Lerner and Loewe (I wrote that scene a week after seeing _My Fair Lady_ ). Also, Gemma is based on me, and everything she says/has is completely true. But, I didn't know how common Asperger's would have been as a term in the seventies which is why I didn't use it. **


End file.
